


Small Mountain

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best part of Keenser’s morning is seeing Chekov’s face (and butt).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov strolls into engineering at the same time every morning for an hour before his shift, smiling like the sun’s embedded in his cheeks. He finds Montgomery right away, Keenser at his side, and together they formulate something for the boy to do—something where he’ll learn. Sometime it’s as simple as cleaning a power conduit, others it’s as complex as rerouting subroutines in the warp core’s stabilization logs. He does everything he’s asked without complain, bubbling with enthusiasm. 

He’s young and thin and twice Keenser’s height, or at least, sometimes Keenser feels like he is. He’s small for a human, though, and he’d still probably be impressed with Keenser’s dick. 

Shit, there Keenser goes again. This is what he gets for hanging out with Montgomery too much. Keenser shakes his head and mutters something, but no one pays any attention. He can say pretty much whatever he wants, and no one will hear him. Montgomery listens to most of it, but Keenser usually leaves certain things out. Like today, for instance. 

Chekov wanders up to Keenser to ask what he can do next, and Keenser will tell Montgomery the truth—he told Chekov to check the grate in the corner behind their Tellar Prime cargo. He won’t, however, mention the part about how he followed a bouncing Chekov and watched the poor ensign crawl down on hands and knees into the open rectangle, ass stuck out in the air and shirt tumbling up, leaving a peek at pale, smooth skin. 

Chekov must have the softest skin in Starfleet, Keenser’s sure of it. Supple and pretty—like the delarian’s pedals back on Delta Vega. Fresh like snow. 

Keenser would love to climb that. 

Climb right up and sit on it and ride it around and around engineering; so much better than some stupid torpedo or shuttle. Chekov wriggles inside the grate, his ass swaying back and forth, and Keenser’s head tilts. What do they call those weird quadrupeds on Pavel’s planet with the manes? Ponies. Keenser would ride Chekov around and around like a pony. 

“Ey! What are yeh doin’ in there?” 

Montgomery pulls Chekov right out of the grate by his ankle, and Keenser is mildly jealous that Montgomery is savvier than him to get in a touch. 

Chekov, rolled onto his back, looks up with a blush. “Ah, I was cheking zhe diagn—”

“Go back to the shuttle!” Montgomery points like a schoolteacher who’s found a toddler in the mud. Biting his lip skittishly, Chekov looks at Keenser, but Keenser just shrugs. Well, all good things have to end. 

Chekov gets to his feet and runs off, and Keenser has _way_ too much fun watching him go.


End file.
